NINE
Deedee returned to school after a week. Da Crew saw her head for the building that housed the actors’ workshop. They watched the green van drive off.
“Isn’t that Eric Ascot?” Josephine asked. Danielle nodded.
“Si, Señoritas,” Danielle said. “That’s Eric Ascot and Sophia.”
The girls separated, heading for their classes.
“Rehearsal later,” they shouted in unison. It was like a battle cry echoing through the empty halls.
Coco wondered how Deedee felt, but she had other things to worry over. Bebop was missing, and her parents had dogged Coco constantly for the past five days.
“Have you seen or heard from my daughter?” they would ask.
How am I gonna be seeing Bebop? I have to look out for my mom. They wouldn’t understand, thought Coco. She sat in class, replaying memories of the street. She realized the problems of the world made calculus seem like child’s play. Eventually calculus claimed Coco’s attention. She was all ears.
For Deedee, however, school slowed to a crawl. Classes were made up of students with inquisitive stares. After a few classes and hours of stares, Deedee wanted to do nothing but leave. She sought refuge in the girls’ room with a lit cigarette, but still felt the whispers of classmates through their looks of scrutiny. It was unbearable at times. Deedee overheard bits and pieces of conversations when she removed her headphones from the Sony CD player. What she heard made her body cringe. This shit’s awful, she thought. Her fingers shook so much that her rings rattled. Deedee wanted to cry. Be strong, she told herself. At times, she felt guilty for being the victim.
“Shit stinks,” she repeated as she left a classroom, hearing her name being called.
“Ms. D. Ascot, please report to the guidance counselor’s office immediately.”
A few minutes later, Deedee knocked on Mrs. Martinez’s door.
“Come in, please,” Mrs. Martinez said. Deedee walked in and closed the door. She stood facing the chubby, friendly woman.
“Have a seat please.”
Mrs. Martinez waved her to a row of chairs against a wall. Deedee sat, staring uncomfortably at the guidance counselor. Mrs. Martinez rushed over and sat next to Deedee.
“Our deepest sympathy goes out to you, my dear. We know what happened and we know this is not a fair world. Bad things happen to good people sometimes, but good always triumphs in the end.”
It was a nice gesture, Deedee supposed. She tried to return the woman’s smile.
“Thank you,” said Deedee, not exactly sure why she was saying it. She wanted to get up and escape the interrogation. Deedee felt that there would be more questioning, more probing. Paranoia awakened her body and gnawed at her thoughts.
“How are you feeling?” Mrs. Martinez asked. Deedee forced something she hoped was pleasantry.
“Ah, I’m okay. I’ll be alright.”
She struggled to find the correct response. Mrs. Martinez saw the struggle. She went to her desk and picked up an envelope with a card inside. She returned and handed Deedee the card. Deedee accepted it, fighting back the tears. She stood up. Mrs. Martinez reached forward and held Deedee by the forearm.
“If you need any kind of assistance, please feel free to call,” she said.
Deedee nodded and turned to leave. Then she looked at Mrs. Martinez’s face; it displayed a smirk, which did not seem reassuring. Mrs. Martinez was also trying to hold back her tears. The expression didn’t completely hide the pity she felt. Deedee smiled at the realization. She waved and slammed the door, heading toward the exit. This day had to end, she thought, reaching for her cigarettes.
The world is such a fucking wicked place, she almost said aloud as the tears sprung, filling her eyes with water and making her vision blurry. As she took out a cigarette, she bumped into Coco. Deedee’s head rose. She wiped her eyes and turned to apologize.
“I’m sorry, I…”
“Need a light, yo?” Coco eyed the cigarette Deedee was trying to hide. “Can’t smoke in da hall, so we gotta take it to da toilet or da streets, yo.”
“Cool. I was heading to the streets,” Deedee said. She was noticeably shaken.
Coco noticed the uneasiness immediately. Maybe this is the way all victims react, Coco thought as they walked to the exit together. As the two girls left the building, they paused. Coco gave Deedee a light. The smoke rushed to her lungs and Deedee immediately started to cough. Her eyes filled with tears.
Coco patted Deedee’s back. “Let’s get something to drink, yo.”
“Yeah, sounds good.”
The girls walked into the corner store. Deedee chose apple juice and Coco brought a soda. They moved to a bench in front of the school. Deedee felt better after a few sips. Coco lit a cigarette.
“So, how ya feeling, yo?”
“Oh, I’m better. All the initial tests were negative. That juice really hit the spot. Thanks Coco,” Deedee said. She inhaled easily now.
Damn, did she forget already? The rape was only last week, she thought, watching Deedee from the corner of her eye. How an incident could be so quickly forgotten. Coco pondered.
“Yeah, true. Da soda is on time. But I’m saying how are you really feeling, you know?” Coco gestured with her cigarette. She knew she was prying, but she felt suddenly that she was also a victim in the car-jack.
Deedee smiled. She had actually misunderstood Coco’s question. It made her cheerful, even if she had to recall a bad ordeal. Coco marveled at Deedee’s smile.
“You’re funny,” Deedee said through a chuckle. “I didn’t mean to laugh, but I’m doing better. It’s the first day back to school after about a week. It’s kinda rough, you know. You know?” Deedee surprised herself with this burst of energy.
Coco nodded. They smoked and sipped and gazed lazily at passing pedestrians. Then they spotted Danielle and Josephine hurrying their way.
“Figured we’d find you here,” Josephine said. Danielle and Deedee exchanged greetings.
“Hi, what’s up? How you feeling?” Danielle asked. She passed Coco to kiss Deedee’s cheek.
Coco stood aside as Josephine did the same. Being with these girls again renewed the feeling of innocent camaraderie for her and brought a flood of emotions. Deedee cried as the girls hugged her. She motioned to Coco, who joined the group hug. Josephine and Danielle sniffled. Coco’s eyes seemed damp. They huddled for a few more minutes, then released one another.
Coco reached for a cigarette. Danielle and Josephine sat on the bench. Coco handed the lit cigarette to Deedee. She puffed smoothly and passed it back to Coco, who took a drag and passed it to Josephine. Josephine inhaled and it was Danielle’s turn, then Deedee’s. The cycle continued until the cigarette was finished. They all stood when the green Range Rover stopped across the street. Eric waved.
“Oh, that’s my uncle,” Deedee said. “Y’all wanna meet him? Maybe get a ride to somewhere?”
“We’re gonna rehearse in da school auditorium,” Coco said.
“But thanks, anyway,” Danielle said waving at Eric Ascot.
“Yeah, thanks. You’re always looking out,” Josephine said. She gave Coco a challenging look. Coco shook her head. Eric Ascot spun the vehicle around in front of the girls.
“Hello, young ladies.” He greeted the girls from the driver’s seat.
“Oh, Uncle. I want you to meet Coco, Danielle and Josephine. They have a group called Coco and Da Crew.”
“No, not anymore. We just Da Crew, yo,” Coco said.
“Yep, Eric,” Danielle stepped forward. “It’s Coco, the crowd motivator, yo, Ms. Flamboyant Jo, and myself.”
“Love-lay Ms. Dani,” Josephine said rhythmically completing the melody. The girls laughed. Deedee opened the door and got in the van.
“Come check us this weekend. We gonna wreck shit at Busta’s Open-Mike contest.” Coco launched her verbal assault at Eric Ascot.
“I will, I will,” he said. The van pulled away and Deedee waved.
The girls raised their hands. “Peace,” they called in unison. “Let’s go rehearse,” they chimed, taking the energy of the battle cry to another level.
They walked determinedly toward the auditorium, ready to engage their talents in their high energy dance steps.
Eric Ascot tapped his thumbs to the beat of the music from the stereo.
“How’d it go?” he asked. He searched Deedee’s face, waiting for an answer.
“Okay, I guess.” She reached for the volume button. “Who are these guys? They sound kinda nice.”
“Oh, yeah. They’re nice. They’re called Chop Shop Crew. They have some good stuff,” Eric said a little excited. Deedee leaned back into the soft leather seat of the van, ready to learn all about this new rap group. She relaxed as her uncle continued. Enthusiasm shone in his voice.
“Yeah, it turns out they’re all barbers. Four of them have been working in the same barber shop all this time.”
Deedee listened to her uncle rattle off the history of the barber shop rap quartet. His voice communicated confidence that the group would do well. He talked for the rest of the journey. She had become his connection to her father, his silent partner. Deedee nodded as he unfolded the story. It hadn’t been such a bad day, after all.
